Portents of Doom
by Most High
Summary: An unwitting wizard, Nevarenn, enters a tomb to investigate dissapearances, only to find Terrors beyond his wildest nightmares! I was half-awake when I first wrote chapter 2, but I rewrote it, enjoy! Please R&R!
1. The Curse of Vengeance

Death, the tomb was rank with the stench. Of course, crypts were always filled with the mingled scent of decaying flesh and whatever other smells produced by the denizens of this dark catacomb. I have little experience with this side of things, being a noble, but I had ventured into the family crypt on several occasions.  
I am Nevarenn Tau'rei, of the noble Tau'rei family. If my father had been more careful in his dealings within the city, I wouldn't be here. He had been involved in a scandal several weeks ago, and to restore our name, he signed me up for this dreadfully menial task. I was one of the few competent wizards in the city, so my father felt it would make our family look good if I did a service for our city.  
Three days privy to this day, a tomb guard had entered the crypt to investigate magical disturbances detected by one of the cities divining wizards, and had disappeared. Consequently, myself and a common fighter, a lithe man named K'tevv, had been put in charge of a group of twenty-six fighters, two healers, myself and one other mage, a witch named Avi.  
I fast found myself wishing that Avi had not joined our group, for I was quite utterly love struck. I couldn't concentrate on anything but her, and the worst part was that she was wed, to K'tevv. That was one instance in which I did envy the moron. With her golden hair and vibrant green eyes, she made every other woman I had ever met pale in comparison.  
"What ails you, friend?" Avi inquired from behind me, speeding her pace to keep speed with my long legs. I noticed her predicament and slowed a little.  
"Naught but the smell," I lied, "are we nearly to the point where they disappeared"  
"We are nearing the point where we lost magical contact, yes." Came her reply.  
As she spoke, the narrow corridor gave way to a large room, the walls lined with caskets. I could hardly see for the darkness of the place, so I set to rectify that. I drew from a pouch in my cloak a pinch of sand and cast it forth, uttering the correct incantation to conjure a magical light. A faint glow began to emanate from the tomb's walls, slowly growing brighter as the spell took effect. I instantly regretted it.  
A grisly scene lay before us: we had found the patrol, at least what was left of them. Bodies were strewn about, most charred beyond recognition, others were torn apart, electrocuted, and three even appeared to have drowned!  
"What in the name of... who could have done this?" stuttered Avi, her voice filled with fear. No reply was forthcoming.  
"Let us move on, we must find whatever did this and repay it for its atrocious crime," I ordered, my voice grim.  
On we went, searching for whatever horrible thing or things that were responsible for this massacre. We did not need to look far. Our first warning that we had found the cause of the patrol's untimely demise was the cold. I was not a natural cold, but one that seemed to chill me from the inside out. I paused for a moment, reaching with my right hand to my left index finger, upon which I wore a black onyx ring. I twisted the ring to activate the magic, now all I had to do was aim and make a fist with my left hand, and I would cast forth a large pillar of white-hot flames.  
K'tevv heard it first, slow, deliberate footsteps in the dark before us. I was next to pick up on it, and acted fast. "Avi! Light!" I bellowed, while at the same time taking aim in the direction of the noise and curling my left hand into a tight ball. A billowing tier of flame leapt forth, brighter than the desert sun, striking down two of our assailants. As Avi's light spell took effect, I got a clear view at what I was fighting: corpses. Eleven animated cadavers marched toward us, or at least, there were eleven before I disintegrated the first two.  
Although these beasts were quite frightening, they were nothing compared to the horror that brought up the rear of the undead group. It looked as though it were caught halfway between a rooting corpse and a clean skeleton. Composed mostly of bone, the cadaverous being still had rotten flesh attached to some of its body. The most horrifying feature, though, was its head. A clean bone skull, the creatures eyes had been replaced with twin glowing red orbs of light.  
I recalled hearing from an instructor during my arcane training that the best way to eliminate the undead was to burn them, so I called to mind my most devastating fire spell.  
Waving my arms and curling my fingers through the appropriate gestures and passes all the while relaying the verbal incantation, I completed the spell quickly. Quite abruptly, a glass orb appeared amongst the writhing mass of zombies, few stopped for a moment to look at it, but their lack of concentration cost them their lives as the more elite fighters hacked them apart. The glass orb then was limned with a magical blue flame, then the globe exploded, shards of glass buried themselves in the monster, and then ignited, consuming the beasts entirely with blue flame.  
Once all the minions were killed off, the red-eyed monster in back showed his power to us. Raising a skeletal hand in our direction, the creature's eyes flared, and the room was filled with a searing red light, and when I looked up from the floor I did not remember hitting, I was struck with utmost horror.  
The entire party had been decimated, aside from Avi and me, for our now destroyed spell shields had protected us from the blast. Thinking quickly, I rolled atop of Avi. Once there, I whispered a word, the magic word to invoke a permanent enchantment I had cast on me as a mageling, and upon invoking it, Avi and me were made ethereal, ghostlike. I willed us to drift down into the floor, and we quite unexpectedly emerged into a deeper tomb, one that existed unbeknownst to us, below the first.  
Like a plume of smoke, we drifted lazily to the floor of the chamber, and made us corporeal again, standing up, me holding her against me. Once there, Avi looked up at me through those vibrant green eyes, and whispered one word, "K'tevv," and with that she gave an almighty shudder, and sank to the floor, quite dead. In my haste to escape, I had overlooked her grievous wounds. Her spell shield had been weaker than mine, and she had been murdered. I fell to my knees, great sobs shaking my shoulders. I know not how long I knelt there, but after a while, a new thought occurred to me, revenge. I would repay Avi's killer. Only now I noticed my surroundings, all over the walls were written ancient texts. I waved a hand over my eyes and whispered an incantation so I could read the texts.  
They finally told me the name of my attacker, Talyyr; he was a lich, an undead mage. In order to kill him, I must pass through two trials. The end read, "When one has passed the trials and defeated the lich, the killer shall take..." The wall had crumbled and I could not finish my reading. I had to extrapolate the rest, I assumed I will get some treasure or power, but that did not matter, only my vengeance.  
I raced down the corridors to reach the first trial. It was contained within two heavy stone slabs for doors. I laboriously forced these open enough to squeeze through. I then surveyed what awaited me, a spider. A fifty foot tall spider with eight legs as thick as the grand redwoods of the forest, and eight eyes, glinting like mirrors in the light provided by the torches in the wall sconces. Eyeing me, the great arachnid charged. I summoned to mind two spells that would hopefully destroy this creature quickly. First I drew out from my cloak a spell component, a small metal sheet the size of a coin. Mumbling an incantation, I tossed the metal at the beast. Dividing into six pieces and growing, the small coin-shaped component was soon six, horse-sized whirling blades! Without hope of avoiding the hail of blades, the spider stopped, realizing any forward movement would only help my spell to decimate it. razor edges tore at the creature's legs, removing for and disabling two others. Effectively immobilized, the spider waited for the killing blow. From my cloak I drew a black glass wand and aimed at the arachnid's head. Merely by willing it, I caused the wand to fire an arc of magical black lightning that attacked the creature, almost as though with a mind of it's own. Soon enough, the room was filled with the distinct odor of charred flesh. It was dead. I had passed the first trial. I crossed the large chamber and passed into the corridor through the next door.  
Upon entering the hallway, I found the floor, ceiling and walls falling away from me! I was now suspended in midair, amongst a seemingly endless violet mist. I spotted a small white speck of light drifting toward me. Upon reaching me, the fist-sized orb spoke, "Congratulations, sir, you have passed to your second trial. I shall test you with two riddles, here is the first: I have a mouth, yet cannot speak, I am always running, but never move, I have a bed, yet cannot sleep, what am I?"  
I hesitated, not because the riddle was difficult, but out of shock. After a few moments, I replied, "Simple, a river."  
It went on in it's misty, female voice, "Very good, now the last riddle: 'Twas in the wood that I found it, you I then sat down to look for it, but alas, I could not find it, so instead, I took it home with me, what was it?"  
I now realized that the being was actually speaking to me in my mind! I pondered the riddle for a few minutes, then I had it! "A splinter, it's a splinter in your finger!" I cried.  
"Excellent! You may now pass to the lair of the lich, young on,." It spoke, then disappeared. Two walls, a floor, and a ceiling fell into place around me, and I was there.  
Before me now stood two impressive great doors, these made from magically hardened obsidian. I lifted a magical amulet from my neck; this one had a golden ring with a glass lens inside of it. I brought the lens to my eye, and muttered the trigger word. Fading away like a morning mist, the two obsidian doors disappeared, at least to my vision, allowing me to look into the room beyond.  
Talyyr's lair was huge, and entirely composed of obsidian. Descending from the door was an unsupported staircase, leading to a flat surface, from the middle of which rose a great pillar of steps, atop the small platform on the pillar, stood Talyyr himself. I removed the eyepiece from my face and placed it again upon my neck.  
I decided to start my battle with Talyyr before even entering the room, and began casting. My spell, however, was not offensive in nature, but illusory. Before long, a magical replica of myself was standing before the door to the chamber. I whispered its instructions, "Count thirty seconds, and then enter the room ahead of you." Not wanting to waste my time, I quickly spoke the word to turn me ethereal again. I drifted into the wall to my left, and quickly circled so I was within the wall opposite the doors. Three, two, one, I counted in my head, then heard the slam signifying that the doors had been opened, then a crackling as Talyyr let loose whatever form of magical punishment it contained, obliterating my copy. That was my cue.  
Already casting my first spell, I emerged from the wall, willing myself solid once more. My roiling blast of white-hot flame took the lich off guard, and it was blown from its pedestal. I knew the thing was far from dead, so took the opportunity to conjure the mightiest spell shield I could around me. Talyyr bolted around the left side of the pedestal, red eyes flaring. It raised a skeletal arm in my direction and let fly a great arc of blue-white lightning. Dodging to the side, I avoided the brunt of the blow, but caught a nasty shock. I twisted my onyx ring and thrust a fist in the direction of the lich. A familiar torrent of white flame tore forth from the ring, yet another projection of my hatred for the creature, and my need for its retribution. A little slower to recover this time the lich rose, and holding forth its rotting right arm. This time it was a purple-blue magical ray that lanced out from Talyyr's hand. Long before he had even stood up, though, I had cast a small cantrip that allowed me to jump far across the room, bound for the stairwell. In mid flight, I loosed a spray of golden magical bolts down at my foe. By the time my flurry of bolts had stuck Talyyr, I had alighted on the staircase, yet again sweeping my arms through mystic passes and raising my voice in incantation. This spell would do it, kill the undead sorcerer for good.  
I focused all my hatred, pain, anger sadness, and grief into this one final spell. In front of me materialized retribution incarnate, in the form of eight spikes of ice as long as I was tall (which is very tall). At my will, the spikes shot forward, each one burying itself deep within its target. Talyyr stood there for a moment, almost in disbelief, but it was not over. Each spike was soon coated in icy barbs as long as my middle finger, which where then limned with the same blue flame the lich's comrades had fallen to. I had won. Talyyr was reduced to cinders. My vision starting to blur, I realized how much of a toll the battle had taken, I was exhausted. I attempted to shake it off, but then I noticed a red mist had risen from the lich's cremated body. Faster than anything I had even seen, the red mist shot forward and struck me, knocking me unconscious. I fell to the floor... hard.  
I am still unsure how long I lay there, but I did finally awake. I rolled, using my left arm to push myself into a standing position, but when my left hand touched the floor touched the floor, I heard a click. I brought my hand in front of my hand to inspect it, and screamed. Hard and white, my arm had turned to bone. I ran to a pier glass across the hall and looked in, seeing a skull with twin red glowing eyes staring back at me. " But how? What made me... oh God! That red mist did this... the inscription!" I spoke this because it had just dawned upon me what the writing on the walls had said, "When one has passed the trial and defeated the lich, the killer shall take... his place." Killing the lich was a quest for an evil man, one who would wish the power of the undead. My rotten face contorted with horror, and my motionless heart filled with dread, this could only be undone by my death. 


	2. Newfound Evil

Hello, everyone!!! I had to rewrite this chapter because I was half-awake when I first wrote it. I think it is much better now.   
  
Cold, skeletal fingers moved quickly through the mystic passes of a silent spell. The lich Nevarenn finished his spell with a flick of his forefinger, and as he did so, twenty corpses rose up from their coffins, magically reanimated. Mentally, Nevarenn ordered them to attack him; he needed the practice. With hardly a thought, the lich raised a single finger in the direction of one zombie, and in a bright purple flash, it exploded. Not wasting a second, Nevarenn lifted both hands in the direction of a group of ten of them, and in short order, six spheres made of glass formed between them. The spheres were quickly limned with a magical blue flame. With another mental command, the spheres detonated, sending shards of burning glass in all directions. All it took was one piece of glass to hit a zombie, and the whole creature would be engulfed in blue flame. Raising his bony hands in one final evocation, Nevarenn conjured a hail of horse-sized blades to tear the rest of the undead minions to shreds.  
  
This was part of a daily routine Nevarenn had scheduled for himself; it was designed to stop him from giving in to the inherent evil he felt within. Being a lich was not without its advantages, though, for instance, Nevarenn had almost instantaneous access to an almost infinite range of spells, all of which he could cast in an instant. Nevarenn had to fix this problem, but it could not be solved in his tomb. Curling his fingers into mystic glyphs, Nevarenn teleported himself to another part of his tomb, the treasury. He swiftly invoked a spell of telekinesis, and with his mind called forth the various wands and scrolls he would need on his long journey.  
  
Nevarenn visited his extensive library next; he needed to know where to go. He plucked a rather recent text from the shelf. Waterdeep? No, too common. Silverymoon? No, too... holy. Calimport? Too many assassins lived there. Nevarenn scrutinized many texts similarly, no one location having the allure he searched for. Nevarenn tossed the book aside; he could find no city on the face of Faerun that could give him the power that he sought. "Power? No, not power, why would I think that?" Nevarenn asked himself, shuddering at the ease with which the evil thought had crept into his mind.  
  
Recently, Nevarenn had been subject to many such thoughts, each one occurring so naturally Nevarenn thought they were right, but they were purely malicious. Soon, Nevarenn feared, he would succumb to the evil nature of a lich. He could not allow that to happen under any circumstances. Somehow, Nevarenn had to find a source of magic to restore his soul. Although it would not make him alive again, it would allow him to remain good.  
  
Just than a though occurred to Nevarenn, he could find no place on the FACE of Faerun. Maybe he was approaching this all wrong. Swiftly as possible, Nevarenn moved through his extensive records until he reached the tome he wanted. It was a dark purple in colour and bore the large symbol of a spider upon the front of the book. Nevarenn opened the book and flipped through until he saw the heading he wanted, Menzoberranzan.  
  
The City of Spiders: his destination. Nevarenn was angry he hadn't thought of it sooner. If there was a magic that the Drow could not find, it did not exist. A grin crossing his decayed face, Nevarenn rose from his seat, moving his hands through the complex gestures of a long-range teleportation spell. He could not teleport directly into the Underdark; the abundant magical "hot spots" interfered too much. He first had to find a way into the Underdark. With a loud crack, the lich disappeared.  
  
Miles and miles away, far beneath the surface of Toril, Gromph Baenre smiled. With the flick of an obsidian-skinned finger, he dispelled the divining window. The Archmage of Menzoberranzan could not have been more pleased at the thought of a conflicted lich coming into his domain. The poor fiend would be so busy trying to quell his sinister urges; he will be completely vulnerable. Gromph could make him do whatever he wanted. Again the mage smiled.  
  
Regardless of how strong he thought he was, Gromph knew the lich would eventually be led to use a demonic source for information. The Baenre wizard was now preparing for that eventuality. Safe within his extradimensional office, Gromph indulged enough to look around and admire the room. Scroll tubes were stocked neatly upon shelves. Stacks of ancient parchments stacked everywhere. Gromph knelt to the floor, placing the last runestone in the circle of protection. A small blue shell sprung forth; ready to contain whatever Gromph conjured.  
  
Gromph slowly, deliberately moved his hands in the appropriate manner, fingers curling into specific glyphs of summoning. He finished the incantation by throwing both hands into the air. Glass tubes and wands all started clinking together as his whole office began to tremble. After a few moments, a great red doorway of fire expanded until it was almost too large to be contained. Through that gate stepped, to Gromph's ultimate pleasure, a huge, dog-faced, bat-winged Balor.  
  
A loud snapping noise announcing his arrival, the lich materialized in a small bedroom at the Yawning Portal in Waterdeep, the quaint room making his arrival less obvious. Nevarenns' red orbs of eyes flared as he cast one more spell, one of illusion. Now, instead of an undead lich, Nevarenn stood in the chambers looking as he had before he had been corrupted. The door to his room creaked loudly when he opened it, and as he walked toward the stairs, the floorboards groaned beneath his feet.  
  
Once downstairs, Nevarenn knew what to search for: information. He needed anything regarding the Underdark or an entrance to it. Nevarenn was unsure how to gather information covertly, as in his home city (in a life that seemed so far away) he had used his noble status to get what needed. He was sure he could manage anyway.  
  
Nevarenn was not so sure of himself after an hour of no results. He was currently engaged with an unbearably annoying halfling man.  
  
"I might know somethin', I might not." The little creature stated in his high-pitched voice. All Nevarenn would have to do was curl his fingers correctly and the insufferable little wretch would just- No. That was the evil lich talking; he must be patient.  
  
"Look, I simply want to know if there is anywhere I could... gather information." Nevarenn alluded, his own voice it's usual deep tone.  
  
"Ah, now I see what yer meanin'! Well, if you come back her about... midnight, I could... fix you up with someone." the little man imparted.  
  
"I would be most pleased with that," Nevarenn had hardly gotten the sentence out when the halfling took off out the door.  
  
Nevarenn was about to return to his room when he heard a shout from across the tavern, "Lich! Die evil fiend!!!" Nevarenn whirled to see a young cleric standing at the opposite end of the room. His magic-sensitive vision allowed him to see she wore a circlet of true seeing. She quickly cast an incantation to dispel his illusive camouflage. Soon, there stood Nevarenn in all his undead glory.  
  
Not wasting any time, Nevarenn flung both hands in her direction, eyes flaring. Nine blue orbs of pure ice magic sailed across the room, shattering on impact with anything and freezing everything in a three-foot radius. Once something was frozen, it shattered. Nevarenn looked across the hall to see the cleric still standing, unharmed. Thinking fast, Nevarenn tried a very complex spell; one that he himself wrote for an occasion such as this. He flung out his hands, moving his arms and fingers through magical gestures, finally finishing his spell with a bright blue flash. In an instant, everyone in the room was healed, their memories of the last ten minutes erased, and Nevarenn had teleported to safety. It wasn't that Nevarenn couldn't have killed them all; only that killing them would have drawn far too much attention to himself, and that would hardly have been the right course. Nevarenn found himself exhausted trying to quell his dark impulses. At Midnight he would return, and this time with a better illusion. 


End file.
